Blood Red Revenge
by Lakshimbai
Summary: Third in a series. An old enemy of the Scoobies and an old enemy of the CBI have formed an unholy alliance with one aim in mind: vengeance.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy and Bruno Heller owns the Mentalist.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing a third and final chapter in this series for a while. I thought I'd take some time off, maybe work on something else for a change. But this fic came to me, practically complete, in a dream on Friday night, and I spent the weekend writing it down. And yes - I know how sad it is to admit that I even dream in fan fiction! So this is written, it just needs a little polishing here and there before I post each chapter.

No spoilers as to who the bad guys are, but there's one baddie from each series, and they have dark deeds in mind...  


* * *

  
The first day that Patrick Jane did not appear at the office, Teresa Lisbon was not unduly worried. She'd seen him arguing with Hightower the night before and assumed he was still sulking. No new cases came in that day, and she was frankly glad of a quiet day to catch up on paperwork without Jane constantly disturbing her.

The second day that Patrick Jane did not appear at the office, Lisbon began to get a little worried about him, but still assumed he was sulking. Hightower had admitted that she had accused him of being reckless with his colleagues' lives after yet another of his stunts had led to a shootout with the murderer. No one was hurt, but Lisbon knew Jane well enough that he would be both angry and guilty at the accusation of not caring about others' lives. His own life he would be reckless with, but never others.

The third day that Patrick Jane did not appear at the office, Lisbon got concerned. She tried his cell phone and got no answer, tried the landline at the apartment he usually rented in Sacramento and again got no answer. Not wanting to worry her team, or look like an idiot when inevitably Jane strolled in as though nothing was wrong, she didn't mention her concerns, but instead started calling hospitals in the area, just in case. When that didn't turn up any news of him, she drove out to his little-used house in Malibu. She'd only ever been there once before, and it was not a place she felt at home in. The red smiley face that hinted at the dark deeds that had occurred still grinned in its macabre way. It was no wonder Jane rarely came home, she thought with a shiver. But there was no sign of him at the house, and no hint that he had been there in several weeks.

The fourth day that Patrick Jane did not appear at the office, Lisbon called a team meeting.

"Has anyone heard from Jane? Anything at all?"

"Nope. Wait, you mean you don't know where he is either?" Van Pelt frowned, suddenly worried. "We all thought he'd told you that he wouldn't be around, that was why we haven't asked."

"So no one has heard from him in four days?" Lisbon folded her arms and shook her head. "Where the hell has he got to?"

"I'll call the hospitals," Van Pelt said, picking up the phone.

"I called them yesterday. Try them again, then try the morgues and every police station in a seventy mile radius, in case he got himself arrested for something. I'm going to go talk to Hightower."

As Lisbon left, Rigsby glanced over at the other two. "She was worried enough to call round hospitals yesterday, but she didn't tell us?"

"You know Lisbon," Cho commented. "Never shares much."

The fifth day that Patrick Jane did not appear at the office, he officially became a missing person and every team at the CBI was put on the case. One of their own was in trouble. Even those agents who had never been able to stand Jane's antics made no complaints, just started work. One of their own was in trouble.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: One point I forgot to mention, which is actually quite important is that this takes place during Season 2, set after Rigsby and Van Pelt have split up, but before the season finale - which I've only read about, seeing as how I live in England and we have got another three/four weeks before it airs.

* * *

After Jane had been missing for seven days, Lisbon was frustrated and more than a little scared. If people were missing this long without any clues, it usually meant they were dead. She knew her statistics, every cop in the agency knew the statistics – the first 48 hours were critical in any missing persons investigation, and they were well beyond that time, thanks to her own complacency. After those 48 hours, the trail began to get cold, people didn't remember those small details as well, and it became far more difficult to get anywhere.

The daily briefing was becoming a dispiriting exercise in futility. No one ever had any good news to report. It was as though Patrick Jane had simply vanished without a trace.

"Forensics are back on Jane's car," Van Pelt reported tiredly. Her face showed the stress that all of the CBI, but particularly Lisbon's team were under. In fact, Lisbon didn't remember if anyone of them had left the office over the last two days, except to go and interview potential witnesses. She made a mental note to make sure all three of them went home for some sleep that night.

"Anything?" Hightower led the briefings, her presence a reminder of the seriousness of the situation.

"Something. Maybe. The traces of blood we found at the scene are a match with Jane, as are the fingerprints on the door handle."

"Shocking. He touched his own car." Lisbon was too worried about Jane to worry about the formality of interrupting Hightower, and too concerned to bother to hide her sarcasm. "Anything useful, Van Pelt?"

"Small shards of glass were found inside the car, and forensics ran a trace on the substance on them. It was chloroform."

"So he was attacked at his car, hurt enough to bleed and then chloroformed?" Lisbon closed her eyes in pain. Not just missing then, but kidnapped.

"I'll start checking with Probation, see which of the guys Jane's put away got out recently," Cho offered.

"I've got word out through the Gang Unit," Rigsby said. "All the street gangs from here to the coast know that someone has kidnapped a cop and that we're all pissed about it. If they find anything, they'll let us know. None of them want us suspecting that they had anything to do with it – they know what happens when a cop gets hurt."

"Good. Van Pelt, you're with me. We're going back to where we found his car." Maybe this time, something new would jump out at her.

After leaving CBI HQ that final time, Jane had apparently treated himself to a nice dinner at the restaurant of a nearby country club. His car had been found in the car park of the restaurant, a little way from the main entrance, just far enough from the entrance that the staff's stories that no one had seen anything were plausible. The space Jane had parked in was still cordoned off with crime scene tape and Lisbon ducked underneath.

"Let's think this through: Jane has dinner, pays for it, flirts with a waitress on his way out, and walks over to his car." She looked around. "We have checked their CCTV, right?"

"They don't have anything covering the car park," Van Pelt confirmed. "Only the reception and main dining area of the restaurant."

"Naturally." She grimaced. "So, he gets to his car, opens the door and that's where he, she or they attack him. He's hit, probably from behind, and goes down, leaving blood on the bottom of the door. The attacker then knocks him out with some chloroform, but manages to break the container at some point and leave traces of it behind. Jane is then moved to the attacker's vehicle and driven off."

"That's what the evidence is telling us."

Lisbon shook her head. "The club said the restaurant was busy that night. Not one person saw anything suspicious at all? A fight, and then someone is carried unconscious to another car, and no one saw anything? That's not likely."

"The manager said that guests who arrived later than Jane wouldn't have parked near here – the bulb in the streetlight had fused, so it was the only unlit area of the car park." Van Pelt shrugged uneasily. "It's likely no one was close enough to see anything. We're checking with everyone who was on the guest list, just in case."

"Hang on a minute, the bulb in the light that Jane parks under just happens to be the only one in this entire car park that's not working on the very night that he gets kidnapped?"She snorted. "Get forensics back here and get them to go over every inch of that light. If someone tampered with it, I want to know who and how." Now they were getting somewhere, she thought with relief. "Any trace left from the other vehicle?"

"Nothing. We have to assume that they parked near Jane, otherwise someone was more likely to see something, right? Well, there's nothing for five spaces either side. No tire tracks, no oil spills, no distinguishing marks at all."

"Damn." She paced impatiently. "There has to be something. No one commits the perfect crime."

"Jane probably could."

She glared at Van Pelt. "That's not helpful. There is no such thing as the perfect crime." It sounded hollow, even to her own ears.

Later, back at HQ, Hightower took her aside. "How are you holding up, Lisbon?"

"I'm good, boss," she assured the taller woman firmly. The last thing that Lisbon would allow to happen was her removal from this case. She was going to be the one to find Jane.

"It's never easy, when something happens to a colleague, and worse when it happens to a friend," Hightower said sympathetically.

"I'm fine."

"But when someone just disappears...that can often be the hardest to deal with. When they simply vanish, as if by magic..." Hightower stopped. "What? Lisbon, what did I say?"

Lisbon had gone white. Magic. Oh no. Not that. Anything but that. She waved off Hightower's concerns and locked herself in her office. It looked like it might be time to call Xander Harris.


	3. Chapter 2

It had been fairly quiet for the last couple of months in Cleveland. Oh sure, there had been two attempts to open the Hellmouth, a giant troll had appeared and smashed up a few places and there had been that whole incident with that frog-thing that had seriously spooked Willow, but it had been fairly quiet, Xander thought with contentment. Perhaps they had the badness under some sort of control. Or, his cynical, practical side suggested, perhaps the bad guys were just saving up for some seriously bad mojo.

Nothing they could do about it for now, though, so he concentrated on what he could do. He had young Slayers to watch over and train, another young Watcher who needed some seasoning on a Hellmouth before being given her own Slayers to watch over, and a friend so close that she was family to entertain.

He smiled over at Buffy. "So, what does our gallant leader feel like doing while she's in Cleveland?"

"Are there many options?"

"Not so much," he admitted with a shrug.

"Then I'll stick with our usual. Let's find a decent club, get down to some serious dancing, then come back here and have a marathon DVD session, with popcorn, pizza and ice cream!" Buffy leapt up and started to plan her outfit for the night's partying and Xander found himself smiling. Buffy might be a hero to all the baby Slayers, she might be a near-mythical nightmare to the bad guys out there, but to Xander, he would always see that brilliant, beautiful, funny teenager he had met all those years ago. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe she was friends with him.

"Hey, earth to Xander! Where'd you go then?"

"High School." At her questioning frown, he laughed. "Nothing to worry about. So how's Dawn?"

"Loving her post-grad course at Oxford. It's pretty much all she talks about." Buffy smiled proudly. "And how's Faith? I can't believe she stayed here as long as she did."

"I think she needed a home," Xander admitted. "She's gone for what she calls her annual walkabout, but she should be back in a couple of weeks. Amazingly, she's really good with the baby Slayers."

"Amazing." They grinned at each other with the ease of old friends. "So it's just us, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Wills was meant to drop in, but apparently she and Kennedy are giving it another go, so she's all loved up and travelling around Europe at the moment." Xander shook his head. "How many times have those two broken up and got back together now?"

"I think this makes the fifteenth. This year." She giggled. "Andrew's still in Rome, keeping an eye on everything there, Vi and Caridad have gone over to Hong Kong to look at how that School's working and Giles is apparently buried neck deep in paperwork. So, yep, just you and me."

"All to myself, I can't believe my luck."

As they were about to leave, Ayako appeared from Xander's office. The Japanese Slayer smiled apologetically and both Buffy and Xander groaned. Their night out looked like being over before it had begun. "OK, Ayako, hit me with the bad news. C'mon, I can see you've got some."

"It might be nothing, Xander, but Agent Lisbon from the CBI is on the phone and wanted to talk to you." Xander frowned, but went to take the call. "Did Xander tell you about when they came to visit a couple of months ago?" Ayako asked.

"Yeah, I heard about the Holy Water Pistols too," Buffy smiled. "Did she say what she wanted?"

"No."

"Oh well. Let's hope it's not an Apolocalypse." Xander reappeared and Buffy linked arms with him as they left the house. "What did she want?"

"Apparently Patrick Jane has gone missing, kidnapped, and Lisbon wanted to know if there was any way we could find out if magic had been involved." When Buffy laughed incredulously, he shrugged. "She said there hasn't been much forensics to go on, and when someone said he'd disappeared as if by magic, she thought of us."

"It would be nice if people thought of us without connecting us to murder, demons and mayhem, but that's life, I suppose." Buffy shook her head. "She didn't seem like the type to leap to conclusions though. I'm guessing we're her last hope."

"Yeah. I said I'd check with Giles and Willow, see if there was anything we can do. And I asked for volunteers to check through what we've got on prophecy, see if anything mentions something that could be connected."

"It's Friday night, Xander! Did anyone volunteer?"

"You missed the way Patrick Jane charmed the girls last year. Marissa, Rachel and Ayako all stepped up and I left them in the library."

"Wow." Buffy whistled. "I mean, he was cute and all, but I'm not sure I'd give up my Friday night to wade through prophecy on a wild goose chase."

"Liar."

"Let me have my street cred."

"Yeah, but we're on our way to the demon bars to see if anyone has heard anything, aren't we?"

"Not the point." But she smiled at him wickedly and Xander had to laugh.

* * *

Chloroform left a nasty headache, Patrick had discovered. Add that to the bump on one temple, where one of the goons had smacked him, and his head throbbed unmercifully. He didn't remember much about the actual kidnapping, but there had been three men involved. That much he knew. After that, everything went blurry. He wasn't sure how long he'd been locked up, but it had to be a couple of days by now. When he had woken up, he was handcuffed and tied to a chair in what appeared to be a basement. Wherever he was, it was almost totally pitch black, the only light appearing around the edges of the door, at the top of a long flight of stairs that presumably led to the rest of the building.

It was quiet too, and he strained to hear anything. Not having seen anyone for what felt like a very long time, at least ten hours he estimated, it was as though he'd been abandoned, left there to die of starvation. He shuddered and tried to think more positively. They wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of chloroforming him if he was just going to be left to die. Whoever was behind this, wanted something from him, which meant that someone had to come and talk to him. Eventually.

A couple more hours passed, and his throat began to burn with thirst, before he saw anyone. The door to the basement was opened and someone came down, but didn't switch on the lights, walking confidently despite the darkness. Patrick squinted, trying to make out every little detail, but beyond the fact that the person was tall, broad-shouldered and definitely male, he couldn't tell anything.

"Water. Here, drink." A bottle was held to his lips and, despite his worries that it might be drugged, Patrick was too thirsty to argue. He sucked in as much as he could before it was snatched away. It was only then that Patrick noticed the slight tang to the water. Drugged after all, then. The man watched him in silence for a few minutes, not responding to any of Patrick's questions or comments, completely impervious, before Patrick's head started to droop forward as the sedatives took effect.

The last thing he remembered hearing before the blackness took hold again was his captor say, "They'll be here by the next time you wake up. Then you'll wish you'd never been born."


	4. Chapter 3

When she hung up the phone to Xander, Lisbon realised just how much she had been relying on him providing some sort of lead. But he had the same as her: nothing. Apparently there were no hints in any book of prophecy and the bad guys around Cleveland hadn't heard anything about someone kidnapping an ex-psychic. She groaned and tried to think. Who would want to hurt Jane? Most people who met him, she admitted to herself. Jane had a way of irritating people. Those they met through an investigation were either thoroughly charmed by him, or thoroughly irritated. Which unfortunately widened the suspect pool of who would want Jane out of the way.

"Rigsby, did Forensics get anything from that busted light at the restaurant?"

"They found some fibres, and they're running trace on it, but no fingerprints or DNA." He shrugged tiredly. "Whoever it was, was seriously careful."

Lisbon froze as a horrible thought occurred to her. "Red John careful?"

Rigsby turned to look at her and she wished she'd kept her suspicions to herself. He looked utterly horrified at the thought that Patrick Jane could now be in the hands of the one man who truly hated him. "If it is Red John, do you think he's killed Jane?"

"No." She shook her head firmly and hated herself for having to extinguish the hope that suddenly appeared in Rigsby's eyes. "If it is Red John, he's going to keep Jane alive for as long as possible. Which means we have work to do."

She took Cho back with her to the restaurant, to interview the staff yet again. A thankless task, and probably pointless, but at least it gave her something to do. "Is there anything you remember about that day? Anything out of the ordinary at all?" She was on her tenth interview and was fast losing heart and enthusiasm.

"Well, there was something a bit odd." One of the waitresses frowned. "But I don't think it's relevant."

"Let me decide that. What was odd?"

"I thought I saw an old school friend, Jason Remington."

"So?"

"So, I could have sworn I read that he was murdered last year." The waitress shrugged. "Maybe it was a different Jason Remington."

Lisbon was on the phone to Van Pelt before the waitress had finished speaking. "Van Pelt, pull everything you can find on the murder of Jason Remington, from last year. I want to know who did it, how, when, where, everything. Got that? We'll be back in an hour."

As she walked back into CBI HQ, Lisbon wondered what a dead man could have to do with this, but any lead was better than nothing. Van Pelt met her at the door, looking worried. "Boss, you aren't going to like this."

"Why? What have you got?"

Van Pelt laid out the case file, along with several crime scene photos. Rigsby and Cho joined them, but luckily every other agent was busy. "Jason Remington was found murdered in a park last year. He'd been drained of all his blood." All four exchanged worried looks. "There were two puncture wounds in his neck, going down to the carotid artery, and traces of blood in his mouth. Sacramento State Police never found any suspects, motives or forensics. Case is still open."

Rigsby looked around, checked no one could overhear them. "Vampire?"

Van Pelt nodded. "I checked with Marissa. If there was blood in his mouth, it suggests that he was turned, made into a vampire himself."

"So our vampire walks by the restaurant that Jane was at, at roughly the same time as he disappeared." Lisbon shook her head. "Too much of a coincidence. Figure out how we find Jason Remington. Xander once told me that most vamps don't change their habits too much. Maybe he still likes to go to the same places he once visited. Check everything. This is the best lead we've got."

Jason Remington lived up to Xander's description that most vampires weren't very bright. They found him at the mall he always gone to as a child, hanging around after dark. It had taken ten officers to subdue him, and only with the use of taser, but he was handcuffed to a chair in the main interview room, with Cho standing guard, armed with a large wooden cross that made the vampire flinch back in his seat every time he moved.

Lisbon looked through the one-way glass. "Van Pelt, Rigsby, do everything you can to keep Hightower away from this one. God knows how we'd explain we have a vampire suspect."

"Got it, boss." Rigsby hesitated then grinned. "You do realise you're about to have an interview with a vampire?"

"If I hear any more Anne Rice jokes, I'll personally see you on guard duty outside the State Senate for the rest of your career."

* * *

Patrick groaned as he woke up. At least his chloroform headache appeared to have gone. This time, he was standing up, his wrists encased in metal shackles, linked by a strong chain that was hooked to something in the ceiling that kept him standing upright. More worrying, to Patrick's mind, was that someone had removed his jacket, vest and shirt, leaving him half naked. Whatever they had planned, he was willing to bet it wasn't going to be pleasant.

Mentally, he ran over his condition. He was hungry and thirsty, but aside from the bump on his head, he seemed relatively unharmed. Given his current predicament, he was willing to bet that was because whoever kidnapped him was doing it on the orders of someone else – the 'them' that had been mentioned by the only captor he'd seen so far. And they didn't want anyone else to hurt him, presumably so they got to do it themselves. So, powerful enough to arrange a kidnapping of someone who worked with the CBI, and sadistic enough to want to hurt him themselves, instead of watching anyone else. He looked around the still dark basement. He had a feeling this one wasn't going to be about a ransom.

OK, so who had he pissed off lately? No, that wasn't going to narrow it down much. OK, who had he pissed off who had the nerve and the resources to pull something like this? There'd been that Russian he'd stolen a painting from, and a couple of rich, privileged people he'd thoroughly humiliated, but the only name that really occurred to him was Red John.

Only Red John would have as little respect for the CBI to kidnap one of their own. He had no doubts that Lisbon had mobilised the whole agency looking for him, and he had no doubts that she would find him. Whether she would find him in time was a very different matter.

As the door to the basement opened, Patrick took a deep breath, determined that whatever happened, he would not give Red John the pleasure of seeing him scared. A man and woman descended the stairs and this time, a light bulb was switched on. The man stayed back, stayed in the shadows, but Patrick knew. How, he couldn't say, but he knew.

"Red John." It wasn't a question.

He turned instead to study the woman. Tall and slim, she had long dark hair and big eyes – almost beautiful, but there was something not quite right in her gaze. Dressed in a long white gown, looking like something out of a Victorian novel, she floated over to him, holding a china doll in one hand.

"Miss Edith, aren't we lucky?" Her voice was light, her tone whimsical and her accent Cockney. Patrick wondered how she'd ended up with Red John. She reached out and touched him lightly. Her fingers were cold. "Look at my new toy."


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Quick note - in this universe, Angel and Spike died in the attack in LA. It's not really important what happened to the rest of Angel's gang, but it is worth noting that both Angel and Spike are definitely dead. And it was a few years ago, within the story, so Buffy and the others are over any grieving.  


* * *

  
Patrick stared at the woman who looked up at him with childish delight in her eyes. A new toy? That was ... different. And possibly the creepiest thing he'd heard in a long time. He wondered how Red John had won her over. Wondered how he could explain how much danger she was in.

"Whatever he's promised you, he's going to kill you," he said, filling his voice with as much conviction and sincerity as he could. He was unprepared for the way Red John started to laugh.

"I'm going to kill him," she said sweetly, and laughed with joy. "He's going to be my new Daddy. My old one died, you know," she told him confidentially. "I like you. Your blood is singing to me, calling. I like that." She reached out and ran one finger down his chest. "I can hear it singing. Can't you hear it singing?" she asked Red John.

"No, dearest one. But I would like to hear him sing. Can you make him sing for me?"

"I like music." She drifted around him, moving to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around him. Patrick twisted his head, trying to keep an eye on her. "No, no. You stand still. We want you to sing, not dance."

"I don't think I know any songs," he said carefully. Whoever she was, she was clearly insane.

"No one knows the songs I like," she said dolefully. "I think only the stars really know how to sing."

"Probably." Maybe if he agreed with her, he could make friends with her. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was making friends. "Why don't we go look at the stars?"

She sighed. "No. The stars are hiding from the sun now. I don't like the sun." She was certainly as pale as death. "And I'm hungry." He looked over his shoulder and took a ragged breath. The delicate features of the girl had morphed into the monstrous visage of the vampire. She smiled at him, revealing her fangs and Patrick closed his eyes.

The sting as her teeth broke through his skin was like a hundred injections all at once, the pain starting out as shock before deepening into real agony. He felt her take a long swallow, drawing his blood out and the pain made his head swim. The world shrunk to contain just him, just him and the pain in his shoulder, a fire that was slowly spreading through his body, burning along every vein. He felt his head droop forward, all strength abandoning him and gave in to the weakness that seemed to be taking over

So this was how he was going to die, he thought absently. He'd always thought it would be Red John himself who killed him, not someone else.

As he thought that, he felt her move away from him, her teeth tearing at him as she withdrew. He moaned softly, barely conscious, and heard her stamp her foot. "He didn't sing."

"You will make him sing next time, dearest one."

Patrick managed to raise his head, unbearably weary, and found himself staring into her eyes. "Next time, you must promise you'll sing." Then she was gone, leaving him alone with the pain and the promise of next time.

* * *

Jason Remington did not currently look like a vampire. He was short and slight, with light blond hair that was tied up in a greasy ponytail. He really didn't look intimidating, Lisbon thought, despite needing ten agents to take him out, three of whom were still in the hospital. She reminded herself of those agents, and the fights that she had seen since she met Buffy Summers. She sat on the edge of the desk, just inches away from the vampire and forced her voice to harden.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about where Patrick Jane is, and then I might consider letting you go."

"Or you'll what?" he sneered. "You're a cop. Cops have rules."

"Yeah, we do. But only for actual suspects. You, you're technically dead. I can do what I like to you." She shrugged carelessly. "And I should mention, at this point, just so you know, I've met both Buffy and Faith." She figured she wouldn't need surnames, and sure enough, the vampire recoiled as though she'd hit him. "Yeah, that Buffy and Faith. They gave me some tips."

"T-tips?"

"Buffy said that I should always offer both carrot and stick. The carrot is the possibility that I might let you go. The stick," she paused and moved the large wooden cross to immediately in front of Remington. "This is the stick." She picked it up and moved it to a couple of inches from his face. He flinched back, but she moved it forward again until she heard a sizzle and saw a small plume of smoke from his face.

"All right! All right!"

She leaned back, and the seared cheek on the vampire's face made her feel a little sick. She'd just tortured someone. She'd just... She took a deep breath. This was for Jane. "Fine. What do you know?"

"Not much," he warned. "Look, I was hired to grab the guy, that was all. This chick made me do it. She said," he hesitated and looked frightened. "Look, there are some people, some vampires, that you just don't cross. You didn't cross Angelus, you didn't cross Spike and you don't cross Drusilla."

"Drusilla. Never heard of her. You're going to need to do better than that." She picked up the cross again.

"No! No! Look, I promise you, I was told to grab that guy, and drive him to this other car park, when we gave him to this other guy. That was the last I saw of him! I swear it!"

"What did the other guy look like? Did he say anything?"

"He said that if I got caught, I was to tell you that Red John said hi." He looked confused. "Who's Red John?"

"Nothing that you need to worry about." She stood up and walked to the door. "Cho, you can escort our guest to the front door. Make sure you take him out the front way." She smiled. "It's kind of sunny out there, but you'll be fine."

"Drusilla?" Van Pelt shook her head. "So now what?"

"Now we call Buffy and Xander again. Now that we have a name, maybe they can help out some more."


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Just in case anyone wonders, we don't have the names of Patrick's wife and child, or any information about them except that they're dead, murdered by Red John, so I've made up quite a few details here.

* * *

Buffy led the way into the CBI building, Xander close behind, with Willow bringing up the rear. Agents who saw their entry were reminded of Special Forces, from the grim looks on their faces, the way they almost marched to the bullpen, and the way that Lisbon's whole team leapt to their feet, as though a far more senior officer had just entered the room. For whatever reason, Lisbon had put the word out that all agents could go back to their old cases, that the Jane disappearance was being taken care of. There had been one or two muttered complaints, but the appearance of the three strangers settled that. They looked like specialists.

They all crowded into Lisbon's office and Buffy nodded at Willow. "Make sure no one can hear us."

"By magic?" Rigsby asked, a half-grin lighting his face. Since word had come through that Buffy was on her way to rescue Jane, the CBI had almost relaxed. The Slayer would save the day. Lisbon alone wasn't sure it was going to be that easy.

Willow simply looked at him and produced a little black box. "By using a jamming signal," she explained with a small smile. "I used to be a bit of technical geek."

They all looked to Buffy, Lisbon realised with a sad smile. As soon as the petite blonde had walked in, she was no longer in charge of this case. Buffy was. And in a way, Lisbon was deeply relieved about that. "You certain he said Drusilla?"

"Yeah. I take it that's a bad thing?"

The Scoobies exchanged wary looks. "Yeah. Bad thing." Buffy sighed. "Why would she be hanging with this Red Joe? Any signs he might be a demon? She had a thing for a slime demon at one point."

"No clues that we know about," Cho said. "Red John's just a murderer. One we've never been able to catch."

"I have a theory." Willow sat forward. "I did a little reading about Red John and I don't think he's a demon or vampire. I think he's just your regular, everyday evil and that's what attracts Drusilla. Red John reminds me almost of Angelus in his artistry, the way he arranges everything, and the way that the smiley face is the first thing that people see. He likes to show off. He likes to make people suffer. He's a lot like Angelus." She shot an apologetic glance at Buffy, who sighed but nodded in agreement. "And that's why Dru is with him. She was sired by Angelus, you see, and since, um, he's not about anymore, she's probably been looking for someone to replace him. She might have made Red John into a vampire, but I don't know. The thing is..." she trailed off.

"The thing is," Xander took over. "Dru likes to play with her food. And she's special, different to other vamps. We have to get Patrick back soon, or there won't be anything recognisable left to rescue."

"And how do we go about doing that?"

"Well, now that we know who has him, I can perform a ritual that should be able to guide us there." Willow looked and sounded confident and Lisbon felt her hopes rise for the first time in a long, long week. "But first, we're going to need supplies."

Xander stood up and sighed. "OK, Wills. Hit me with the shopping list. I'll pick up some donuts as well, shall I?" At the door he paused and turned back. "So what happened to your vamp informant?"

Lisbon looked wide-eyed and innocent. "I don't know. We left him chained and heavily guarded in the interrogation room, because he refused to leave. When we came back after the fire drill, there was nothing there. Of course, the sprinklers had gone off, and I think we might have accidentally got the CBI chaplain to bless the water reserves." Buffy had to laugh at the innocent looks of all the CBI agents at that. It looked like Jane wasn't the only one to get good ideas.

* * *

When the vampire walked in, this time she appeared to be alone. Patrick raised his head, beyond tired but unable to rest. His shoulder throbbed agonisingly, and he was still lightheaded from lack of food and loss of blood. She walked over to him and smiled, a lovely, childish smile that made him shudder. He was beginning to understand her a little, to see the madness that drove her. Too tired to be afraid, he stared at her, wondering what she would do to him this time.

"Hello, shining one." She touched his cheek. "Your blood is still singing, I can hear it. I dreamt about you. I dreamt you were on fire, burning, but not burning. You set me on fire," she whispered, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I burnt and I danced and you laughed."

"Just get on with it," he said defeatedly. "Just do what you came here to do."

She pouted. "I wanted to play first." She placed her fingers under his chin and tilted his head up to meet her eyes. "Look at me." With her free hand, she waved her fingers in front of his eyes. "Be in me." She stared at him, and he felt it – felt the beginning of a trance start to take hold. "Be in me." Violently, Patrick shook his head.

"You're going to have to do better than that," he snarled, angry now. "I do that for a living, I'm not about to fall for some cheap parlour trick."

That startled her, he could tell. Her eyes were very wide with surprise and then she slapped him, hard, across the cheek. "You should play nicely," she spat. She moved to stand behind him again and Patrick braced himself for the pain. But she didn't bite him. She placed her hands on his temples and tightened her grip. "I want to see inside you. I want to see what you hide."

It felt as though mist was descending through his brain. Patrick tried to shake his head, to clear the fog, but she held him too tightly. It didn't hurt, didn't feel like anything, but he knew this was bad. Knew that something wrong was happening. But he couldn't fight it.

She laughed. "I like your mind. There's so much darkness. I like the darkness. I feel safe there." She let him go suddenly and moved around in front of him again. "Poor little shining one. You don't want to be alone, do you? None of us do. I don't. That's why Miss Edith is with me."

"What are you talking about?"

She didn't say anything, just backed away into the shadows. He squinted after her, but couldn't see a thing. Then her saw a shape move forward out of the shadows, but it wasn't the vampire. He let out a shaky breath. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

"Oh Patrick, my darling, what have they done to you?" Her voice was as he remembered, that soft Southern accent making him to hold her, as it always did. She was as tall as he was, tall and willowy, with soft, brown hair that was always in a messy bun. Her blue eyes shone with love and she walked over to him, her touch as light and as welcome as it had been when he first met her.

"Nicky?" His voice shook. "You're not real."

She laughed and he closed his eyes in pain. He thought he would never hear that laugh again. She always laughed at him, always laughed at his tricks, but it had been an indulgent laugh, because she had never fallen for them. He had never been able to fool her. "Of course I'm real, Patrick. How else would I be here?"

"Not this," he muttered. "Please not this." He looked at her, drinking in the sight of his wife. "Please Nicky, please. You're not real. You're dead. I saw you." This was a hallucination, he told himself.

"Have you been drinking again?" She mock-frowned and laughed again. Then her laughter died away as she reached down to her stomach and touched the jagged cut that had appeared there, her hand coming away red and sticky with blood. "I remember now. I am dead."

"Nicky, please..."

"It was your fault," she said, as though the memory had just come to her. "It was your fault."

"I didn't mean to," Patrick said, his voice catching as he fought the tears that threatened. "I never meant you to get hurt." It didn't feel like a hallucination, it felt as real as could be. He forgot where he was, forgot everything but the fact that his wife was here again.

"You might as well have stuck the knife in me yourself." Her voice was angry now, a tone that he had rarely heard. Nicky had always saved her anger for those things that truly deserved it, never losing her temper lightly.

"No!"

"Yes." Implacable now, she stepped towards him, her eyes lit with anger. "You killed me."

"No, Nicky, please, that's not what happened, that's not how it happened!"

"And you killed our daughter."

"No!"

"You killed her. You killed our perfect, beautiful, innocent daughter." Drusilla stepped back, letting the illusion fall away as Patrick started to sob helplessly, grief and guilt overwhelming him. She walked back to the stairway that led out of the basement and smiled at the man in the shadows. "He sings so prettily."

Red John looked at her. "You're wonderful." He looked back at Patrick, still lost in his own grief, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed, a broken figure, and Red John smiled.


	7. Chapter 6

Willow set out the ingredients for the ritual and laid out the map of California. They had gathered at Lisbon's apartment, away from the prying eyes of the other agents, where Willow could have the peace she would need for her spell. Only Buffy, Willow, Van Pelt and Lisbon were in the room – Willow had said that the goddess she intended to call upon liked the company of men a little too much and might get distracted. To Cho and Rigsby's obvious relief, Xander had led the retreat willingly.

The four women sat evenly spaced around a roughly sketched circle and joined hands. Willow took a deep breath. "Grace, Teresa, do not say a word during this, OK? The goddess might call on Buffy, as she's the Slayer, but you two are to keep quiet, OK?"

"Don't need telling twice," Lisbon said uneasily.

"Good." She took another deep breath and began. "Circle be sealed." As she spoke, light flickered around the edge of the circle, a pale blue flame that flickered and died. Willow opened her eyes. "Morrigan, I call on you. We seek answers. We seek vengeance. We seek retribution on the one who took our sister Kendra." Lisbon and Van Pelt looked at each other, lost. Who was Kendra? Willow was staring into the distance, her eyes unfocused. "Come Macha, come Danu, come Badb. Come Morrigan and give answer to your disciples." Nothing happened for a long moment and Willow frowned. Tendrils of black appeared in her hair as she shouted, "I will have my answers! Come Macha, come Danu, come Badb! Come now!"

The blue flame returned to the edge of the circle, and this time it stayed in place, growing brighter and stronger. A shadow appeared in the circle's centre, gradually becoming clearer. An old woman stood there, haggard and old, leaning heavily on a wooden staff. Her face was heavily lined and her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace.

"You call on the Morrigan?" Her voice was harsh and cold. "You dare summon us?"

"I seek answers," Willow replied calmly, the black leaching from her hair as she did so. "I seek vengeance."

"Then ask."

"First, you will promise your answers will be true."

"I am bound to this circle, child. Is that not enough? Ask your questions, before I tire of this."

"We are hunting the vampire Drusilla. Show us where she is." Willow gestured to the map of California.

"Why? Tell me that and I shall show you."

"She killed our sister Kendra."

"You lie," the old woman said angrily. "She has been dead years! Tell me why!"

"She has kidnapped a friend of ours," Willow told her. "He is in a great deal of danger."

"And the Slayer has come to get him back." The old woman turned to face Buffy. "But you are not the warrior who most searches for him." She turned to face Lisbon instead. "You are. Tell me your name and that of the man you seek, and I shall tell you what you want to know."

"I'm Teresa Lisbon," she replied, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her by shaking. "And we're looking for Patrick Jane. Now will you help us?"

"True names. You gave me your true name," the old woman laughed, a high, demonic laugh that sent shivers up Lisbon's spine. "The bargain is kept." She gestured and the map shone suddenly, a red light settling on a street in Elk Grove, to the south of Sacramento. "And now, you will come back with me." She took a step towards Lisbon and the flames shuddered, weakening as she approached the edge of the circle.

"No!" Willow's eyes narrowed. "You are bound. I will not see you loosed." The Morrigan turned to face Willow and their eyes met. "You are bound," Willow ground out. "You are bound."

"You are strong, child, but the Morrigan is stronger."

"No." Willow sat bolt upright, her hands resting lightly on her legs. "I am stronger. You are bound. My will binds you. Your business here is done, return to your own world."

"I will not!"

Again, the Morrigan and Willow locked gazes as the blue flames roared. And then, as gradually as she had appeared, the old woman began to fade. Willow's eyes never left hers, until she had faded entirely from view. Only then did Willow fall backwards, pale and shaky. Buffy caught her as she fell and Willow gave a shaky laugh.

"I guess I should have known it wouldn't be that easy."

"Just take it easy, Will." Buffy looked over at the two shaken CBI agents. "Next time she tells you to keep quiet, you keep quiet, OK?"

"Yeah." Lisbon stood up, trying not to show how shaken she was. Magic. Proper magic. In her living room. If anything, the familiar surroundings made it all the weirder. Instead of thinking too much, she turned her attention to the map. "I know that neighbourhood. It's mainly industrial. We can be there in two hours."

"You don't just walk into somewhere Drusilla is waiting," Buffy told her. "We're gonna need a plan first."

"And one that doesn't involve magic," Willow admitted. "I don't think I can work anything else for a while."

"Hey, you did good," Buffy told her firmly. "Now we know where they are."  


* * *

  
Patrick didn't have any strength left to fight with the next time that Drusilla came to feed on him. The pain was as sharp as before, but it barely touched him, so lost in despair and guilt as he was. His only consolation was that Drusilla limited her conversation to singing odd snatches of nursery rhymes as she drank from him.

She sighed as she finished. "You're not playing by the rules, shining one. You're meant to be singing."

"Why?" He laughed bitterly. "Why are you keeping me alive?"

She ran a finger down his cheek, mockingly tender. "Didn't my new Daddy tell you? We're waiting for your friends to come. And once we kill them in front of you and you hear them singing such sweet songs, I'm going to make myself a new Daddy. And then he's going to need some nice, tasty food for his first meal. And that will be you." She kissed his forehead again. "You have the sweetest blood."

* * *

A/N: The Morrigan is a Celtic Goddess of war, emphasis on blood and vengeance, sometimes portrayed as one being, or as three different aspects. She seemed the right goddess to call on, given the way the Scoobies feel about Drusilla...


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Deep apologies for not posting earlier - this whole fic is written, but just needs a little editing to make sure it all makes sense. Family descended on my house this week, though, making it impossible for me to get anything done!

* * *

Buffy studied the warehouse carefully. It was the only one in the row that had seen any activity over the last two hours, ever since the sun had gone down. It had to be where they were keeping Jane. Another chance to get Drusilla. Buffy took a deep breath. This time she was going to get her back for killing Kendra. She only hoped she didn't have to take revenge for whatever they had been doing to Patrick Jane as well.

She slipped silently back to the cars that had driven them down to Elk Grove. "The way I see it, there's two ways in – front and back. We're going to have to hit them both at the same time unless we want to give anyone an easy escape route."

"We could be walking into a trap," Cho said. "Red John must know we'll come looking for Jane. What if they're waiting?"

"Then we fight better than they do," Buffy said, her voice cold and hard. "It might be a trap, but we'll be on our guard for that. Will, you stay here. I want you out of the way, ready to call for more help if we get in trouble, OK?"

The redhead nodded. "Got it, Buffy."

"Xander, you take the back entrance." At his sudden grin, she rolled her eyes. "Not like that, and don't be disgusting!"

"Back door, got it, Buff," he agreed, still grinning.

"The CBI will be going in with you. I'll make an entrance and provide a distraction, while you guys find Patrick and get him out of there. Then, and only then, do we hunt down Dru."

"What about Red John?" Lisbon asked. "We have to arrest him if we can."

"That's not our priority though," Buffy said. "Our main job tonight is to rescue Patrick. If we get to take down Dru and this Red Jim guy, that's great. But that's not what we're here to do."

"Agreed." The more time she spent with the petite blonde, the more Lisbon liked her practical nature, despite her apparent inability to remember names.

"Everyone remember their lesson in how to kill vampires?" Xander asked, passing around the stakes.

"Yeah: the pointy end goes into the heart and the vamp goes poof," Rigsby remembered.

"What?"

"Well, that was how Jess told it."

"Not quite how I phrased it, but I guess it covers the main points," Xander agreed with a grin.

"Everyone ready? Then let's go."  


* * *

  
Patrick had passed through despair some time ago. Lisbon and the others would find him and then Drusilla would kill them. Somehow, he had to find a way to stop that happening. How he was going to achieve that, still chained up and weakened through blood loss, he hadn't decided yet. If it meant he killed himself in the process, that was fine, just as long as his team didn't get hurt.

Red John smiled at him, a cold, hard smile that only solidified Patrick's utter hatred of the man. He was getting careless now, allowing Patrick to see him in the light, clearly sure that his plan would work, that he had nothing left to fear from the consultant. A tall man, younger than Patrick had expected with no hint of grey in his thick, dark hair. He had the coldest eyes Patrick had ever seen, and thin, cruel lips. After all this time, he was finally face to face with Red John and he was completely helpless.

"Poor Jane. You really didn't see this coming, did you?" He sneered at his captive. "Well, very soon now, my lovely Drusilla and her friends are going to bring down your colleagues from that pitiful agency and kill them right here, right in front of you. Then she's going to make me immortal and your last thoughts on this earth will be that you _lost_. I will have finally won, Patrick. I will be immortal, with nothing and no one who can stop me and you will be nothing but a pleasant memory."

"You haven't won yet," he told Red John. "Maybe I'll give you indigestion."

"Still cracking jokes, eh? Maybe I will get Drusilla to show you your daughter before you die," Red John said and Patrick froze. "Would you like that? Would you like to see her again? She really was a little angel. She could ask you why her daddy didn't do anything to save her."

"No. Not that." Patrick shook his head desperately. "Please, not that." It had been bad enough to see Nicky, but his daughter... Anger bloomed hot and hard inside him, but he did his best to hide it, to seem broken.

"Yes. I think that would be a fitting punishment for you." He laughed softly. "I remember her so well, you know."

"No! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Red John tapped his lips contemplatively. "Will you beg?"

"What?"

"Will you beg on bended knee for my mercy?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" That's it, Patrick thought, making sure nothing showed on his face but desperation. "Anything."

"Very well then." Red John called Drusilla down to the basement. "You'll enjoy this, dearest."

"His friends are outside," Drusilla said. "I don't like them. I want them dead!"

"Soon, dearest, very soon. First, let's get Patrick to beg." He unhooked the shackles that tied Patrick to the hook in the ceiling, and laughed as Patrick collapsed to the floor, too weak to properly support himself. His wrists were still chained together, but that would work in his favour, he thought grimly. If he was going to die, he was going to take Red John with him.  


* * *

  
Lisbon held her stake ready, feeling a little foolish as that was her only weapon. Sure, she had her gun with her, but it was of no real use to her, not against vampires. Still, she stood next to Xander, about to walk into a nest of the damned things and made sure none of her fear showed on her face.

"Everyone ready?" There was a chorus of quiet 'yes, boss' and she nodded. "Then let's do this."

They heard the front door of the warehouse slam open as Buffy made her entrance. The Slayer laughed loudly at the general confusion that her entrance caused and said, "What? No one wants to be first? OK. I'll pick."

"Now, let's go," Xander whispered, slipping through the back door. Inside, Buffy was at the centre of a crowd of vampires, dealing out death and destruction to anyone who came within her reach.

"Basement," Lisbon noted, nodding towards the open door. "That'll be where they're keeping him."

She slid over to the open door and took a deep breath and felt Xander step up beside her. "You ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."


	9. Chapter 8

Patrick lay on the ground, keeping his head down as Red John moved closer, trying to calculate the distance without looking. A few steps more, he reckoned. Just a few steps more. Then he could make his move.

"You know, Patrick, I did expect more of you than this," Red John mused. "I thought you'd have more fight in you. Your wife certainly had." Patrick flinched, but made himself lie still. Just a few more steps. "She fought. I liked that. And your daughter. Pretty Kimberley." Patrick ground his teeth together, determined to wait. "I liked her the best. I think that was my favourite kill. So small, so sweet."

Unable to take any more, Patrick looked up and launched himself at Red John, knocking the bigger man to the ground with his momentum. "You bastard," he hissed, not noticing the way Red John managed to get in a heavy punch to his ribs. Patrick was past noticing any pain as he wrapped the chain around Red John's throat and pulled. "You bastard. I'll kill you this time, I swear I'll kill you."

He faintly heard Drusilla wail in the background. "Not my Daddy!"

The vampire grabbed hold of Patrick's shoulder and tried to heave him off Red John, but Patrick was maddened by grief, pain and rage and hung on, despite the new wounds that Drusilla inflicted on him. Red John gasped raggedly for breath as the chain bit into his neck and his fingers scrabbled for purchase. Patrick ignored everything but the sight of his enemy finally dying.  


* * *

  
Lisbon walked cautiously down the steps to the basement, trying not to show her nerves in front of Xander, who was close behind her. What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Jane had a chain wrapped around the neck of a man who could only be Red John, apparently intent on choking him, while a woman in white alternated between wailing dramatically and attacking Jane, leaving ragged wounds down his back. She swallowed hard, not knowing how to interrupt.

Xander, on the other hand, had no such problems. "Hey Dru," he called out cheerfully. "Long time no see."

The vampire turned and screamed in rage. "You! The Slayer is here as well? You took my Daddy and my beautiful boy from me!" She stalked over to them and lashed out at Xander, who blocked her first blow, but missed the second one which knocked him off his feet, landing painfully on the ground. Drusilla leapt on him and raked her finergnails down his face.

"Lisbon? A little help here please!" Xander called out, shaking her out of her stupor. She took a firm grip on her stake and moved up behind the vampire, still intent on Xander for the moment. Whether from nerves, poor aim or just plain bad luck, her first blow with the stake skittered off Drusilla's collarbone and the vampire turned around, knocking the stake out of Lisbon's hands with a contemptuous blow.

Drusilla stood up and grabbed Lisbon's throat in one hand, squeezing hard. The world went white at the edges as Lisbon gasped for breath, struggling to make the vampire loosen her grip. "No one is singing properly," she said to Lisbon sadly. "No one is playing the game as they should."

Lisbon could see Xander still struggling to get up, obviously hurt, and knew she was on her own. She had to do something and she had to do it quickly. Her hand brushed the handle of her gun, and she drew the weapon, chambered a round and shot Drusilla in the stomach in one smooth motion.

The vampire stumbled backwards, letting go of Lisbon in her shock. She touched her hand to her stomach, coming away sticky with blood and she shrieked with pain and anger. Drusilla threw one final punch and Lisbon heard the crack of breaking bone as the vampire's fist connected with her nose. Then she was gone, running up the stairs and out of the basement.  


* * *

  
Buffy let her instincts take over as she fought the vampires, actually enjoying the sensation of just being the distraction for once. This time, there was no Apocalypse to avert, no ritual to interrupt, no hostages to rescues. Her only role was to engage as many vamps as she could and deal with them as only the Slayer could. She moved with a fluid, gymnastic grace, flowing from one blow to the next without a pause. The vampires might have been scared to face her alone, but numbers gave them courage and they surged around her.

She was aware of the CBI agents moving to attack, taking out the vampires nearest them. Blocking a punch with one hand, while staking a different vampire, she called out, "Hey, thought you lot were meant to be guarding the back door? Getting a little stake-happy there, aren't you?"

The taller one - Rigsby, she thought - laughed and held up two fingers in a V-sign. "Got two already!" By the look in his eyes, he was riding high on adrenalin and Buffy shook her head, amused at their enthusiasm.

"Two? I lost track when I hit double figures," she taunted, taking a moment to toss one vampire over the heads of the others, before turning to stake one that had been sneaking up behind her. "Wouldn't want to lose to a girl now, would you?"

She missed Rigsby's reply, getting distracted by a flash of white that headed towards the now-unguarded back entrance of the warehouse and she sighed. Drusilla had escaped again, then.  


* * *

  
Lisbon wiped the worst of the blood out of her mouth as she approached Jane, who was still strangling Red John, unaware of his surroundings. She took one look and winced. Red John was dead. There was no doubt of that: his engorged tongue was lolling out of his mouth, his face was purple and his eyes stared blankly into nothing. But Jane didn't notice.

Very gently, she touched his shoulder, careful to avoid the worst of the bleeding. "Jane? Jane, it's Lisbon. It's OK. I need you to let go now." He took no notice, didn't even appear to hear her voice. "Jane? It's me, it's Lisbon. I'm right here. Everything is going to be OK. I just need you to let go. Can you do that for me?" He blinked and she took that as an encouraging sign. "It's me, Jane. It's Lisbon. Come on. Just let go."

He turned to face her and she tried to smile at him. "L-Lisbon? Is that really you?"

"I'm right here, Jane."

He took a deep, shuddering breath and then looked back at Red John's corpse. He held out his hands, still shackled, as though she was about to handcuff him. "You'll have to arrest me now, Lisbon," he said, starting to laugh softly. "I killed him."

"Oh, Jane," she said quietly.

Still laughing, he repeated, "I'll killed him. Arrest me."

She took in the blood that streaked down his chest, the ragged wounds on his back, the bite marks on his shoulders, the bruise under one eye and the hysterical, hideous laughter and bit back a sob. "I think we'll put this one down as self-defence."


	10. Chapter 9

Buffy stood in the centre of the warehouse, watching as Cho and Rigsby deal with the last vampire before turning around to grin triumphantly at Van Pelt and each other. All three were clearly still riding high on adrenalin and she smiled back. They might not have caught Drusilla, but good work had been done. At least twenty five vamps were dust, and that was a good night as far as Buffy was concerned.

Then she looked over as Lisbon and Xander emerged from the basement, half-carrying Patrick Jane between them. Xander's face was badly scratched and he was walking carefully, as though he'd hurt his leg somehow. Lisbon's mouth was covered in blood, her nose still bleeding profusely. Jane hung somewhat limply between them, laughing softly to himself.

"Oh no." Buffy reached them before the CBI and took Xander's place supporting Jane. She thought about simply picking him up; he was taller than her, but she would be able to balance the weight easily, but one look at Lisbon's set and hard face and Buffy decided, with a quick, hidden grin, not to risk it.

"Jane?" But he didn't respond to Van Pelt's cautious smile, only laughing softly.

"Let's get out here," Buffy said, leading them out, still half-carrying Jane, to where Willow was waiting.

The witch took one look at Patrick, touched his forehead lightly with one finger and said simply, "Sleep." As he sagged instantly in sleep, Buffy took most of his weight with ease. Willow turned to Lisbon and shrugged apologetically. "He'll be better for some rest."

"He'll be better once we get him to hospital," she bit out.

"And so will you and Xander," Buffy said firmly. "Anyone else hurt? No? Good. Just the three of you then." Xander opened his mouth to protest, then shook his head in defeat at the twin looks from Buffy and Willow.

* * *

Patrick woke up slowly and knew, before he opened his eyes, that he wasn't in the basement any more. There was a clean, antiseptic smell that screamed hospital to him. The light hurt his eyes when he did dare to look around, but it was a good hurt. As childish as it might be, he didn't want to be in the dark. He glanced cautiously around and took a deep, shaky breath. Lisbon was watching him out of a pair of matching black eyes, her nose still puffy and swollen. But she was there, and apart from the broken nose, seemed unharmed. More importantly, she wasn't dead.

"You awake this time?"

"This time?" He found the control for the bed and moved into a sitting position. "What this time?"

"You woke up about an hour ago," she told him with a small smile. "Looked at me, asked if I was a vampire, and passed out again."

"Oh." He looked away, tried to change the subject. "Was that Buffy Summers I saw back there?"

"Her, Willow and Xander flew in to help out once we told them it involved Drusilla." She watched him flinch again and wondered if he'd ever talk about what happened in the basement.

"Is everyone OK?"

"Xander and I are a little bruised, but apart from that, we're just worried about you."

He sighed and looked down. Lifting one hand, he frowned at her. "Shouldn't I be restrained? You did arrest me for murder, right?"

"Jane," she sighed. "Hightower and I talked. We agreed it was self-defence." She didn't say that Hightower had looked ill once the doctor had finished listing all of Jane's wounds, or that he had lost nearly enough blood to kill him. "Red John is dead, and it's all over."

He shook his head slowly. "Who was he? Did you find a name?"

"Ray Butler," she replied. "No priors, no record, but he had a driving licence on him. We spoke to his neighbours. They said he had always been a little odd, too clever to really fit in at school, but that he changed when his mother died. She died of cancer when he was about fifteen, and his father was murdered shortly afterwards."

"Red John's first victim?"

"Undoubtedly." She shrugged. "Not that there's any proof of that. After his father's death, he disappeared, but kept the family home. Used to reappear every now and then. The neighbours said they learned to stay away from him, that he had scared them, talking oddly."

"Just another psycho," Jane said with a disbelieving smile. "All that, and he was just another psycho."

"They usually are," she commented dryly. She didn't mention that Cho and Rigsby had found journals detailing every one of the Red John killings, or that one wall in the house was covered with photos of Jane, taken from newspaper articles or press statements from the CBI. Jane had enough to deal with without learning the depths of Red John's obsession with him.

"Lisbon, I –" he paused and looked sheepish. "Thanks. For coming to save me."

"I told you a long time ago, if anyone gets to kill you, it's going to be me."

"I remember. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it," she told him seriously. "Cho is outside and others from the agency will be taking turns to stand guard. You're safe here."

"What are you guarding against?" He shook his head, puzzled and she hesitated, not wanting to tell him the truth. As usual, he guessed before she could find the words. "Drusilla got away, didn't she?"

"Yeah. And she's probably long gone, but I just want to be careful." Lisbon stood and touched his hand lightly. "Get some rest."

"Stay with me." She caught her breath at the sheer vulnerability in his eyes, the lost look that had appeared when she confirmed Drusilla's escape and she sat down again. Jane was pale enough to make the white sheets look healthy by comparison, but he had gone grey when the vampire was mentioned. Whatever had happened back there, Lisbon suddenly doubted if she wanted to know the whole story.

"Of course."

When he did drift off into an uneasy sleep, Lisbon stood up and went to check on Cho. He was sitting, reading a magazine and it would have taken a trained eye to spot that he was alert to every movement in the corridor. She smiled to herself: her people were damned good.

"How's Jane?"

"Shaken, but he'll be fine." She hoped he would anyway.

"Buffy wants a word with you."

"Of course she does." Lisbon sighed and tried to remember to be suitably grateful. The Slayer had saved Jane's life, and helped them close the Red John case, but Lisbon struggled to like her, or her friends. Life had been complicated enough without demons and things that went bump in the night.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Just one chapter left after this one. And yes, as several reviewers have suggested, Dru's not quite done with our favourite Mentalist just yet...  


* * *

  
Buffy and Willow were sitting next to each other in the waiting room, holding hands. Xander had been taken away, protesting as he went, for an X-Ray on his hip. Lisbon hesitated at the door, once again almost unable to believe that two girls, who looked too fragile to do any heavy lifting, were two of the most feared supernatural warriors in the world. If it hadn't been for the hard evidence of her own eyes, she still wouldn't believe it.

"You wanted a word?"

Willow looked like she was hiding a smile at Lisbon's tone, but Buffy stiffened. "Just a quick chat before we head off." Buffy gave her a bright smile. "You might want to start with thanks."

Lisbon sighed and sat down. "I am grateful to you, I swear. You've saved Jane's life at least twice now, more if you count our trip to Cleveland earlier this year. It's just..."

"It's just that you wish you didn't know about vamps, and demons and monsters," Willow said with a grin. "It's OK. We've all had our moments like that. You're lucky, you get to walk away from this and you might never have to deal with it again." What Willow left deliberately unspoken was that Buffy didn't have that choice. Lisbon sighed again.

"You're right; I'm sorry. And I am truly grateful that you came to help out."

Buffy smiled easily. "No biggie. So, did your boss accept the story that Blue John kidnapped Jane and you saved him all by yourselves?"

"_Red_ John," Lisbon corrected with a smile. "And yes, she did. I feel a little guilty for the credit we seem to be getting for closing the case. It was all you, really."

"Can't get a medal for killing vamps," Buffy said with a grin. "You'll just owe us a favour."

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Lisbon muttered. Slightly louder, she said, "So you're leaving soon?" And she tried hard not to sound as though that was a relief.

Buffy and Willow exchanged careful looks. "We'll be about for a couple of days longer, but then we have places to be, shops to visit." Xander reappeared at that moment, in a wheelchair and looking highly displeased to be in a chair. "Xan? Are you OK?"

"Fine, Buff. Just fine," he grinned at them.

Lisbon missed the significance of what happened next, but Willow pointed at her expression and said quietly, "Resolve Face."

Whatever that meant, it made Xander sigh in defeat. "OK, it's a greenstick fracture of the femur. I should be good as new in six to eight weeks. Really and truly, it's hardly worth writing home about. I got worse last time I had to train with Faith."

"Sure you did," Willow said with a grin. "Now let's go get something to eat. I'm starving. All this slaying gives me serious munchies."

"Wills! You sat in a car! I'm the one with the munchies," Buffy pointed out, as she steered Xander's chair out of the door, leaving Lisbon alone in the waiting room, listening to their friendly banter fade down the hallway. She was grateful for all their help, but she couldn't deny that she was pleased that they were leaving. After all, there was nothing left for them to do now. Nothing that she could think of, anyway.  


* * *

  
The next time Patrick woke up, he felt much better, even up to trying some of the hospital food. He lay there, glad that the lights in the hospital stayed on all the time, even though it made it difficult to tell what time of day it was. He estimated that it was late at night, as he saw far fewer orderlies and nurses walking past. Cho had stuck his head in, told him that the night shift guards would be from another CBI team and would be around, so he was feeling safe and secure.

And then Drusilla opened the door and calmly walked in.

He lunged for the call button, but she moved like a viper and seized his wrists in an unbreakable grip. "No, no, no," she chided him gently. "We don't want anyone to interrupt our wedding."

"Wedding?" And to his shame, he heard his voice break with fear.

"I lost my new Daddy," she told him sadly. "I went back but he had gone. Poof! Just like the others. But you won't go away," she said with a smile. "You'll stay with me." He looked down, away from her mad eyes and saw the red stain that was slowly spreading across his stomach. Drusilla noticed his gaze and shook his violently, making his head swim. "Naughty puppy! Mustn't look at Mummy's tummy. She'll be all better soon."

"The Slayer's here," he told her, trying to distract her. "She'll be here soon."

"And then she can meet my new puppy. All mine. All mine to train. I've never had a blond puppy before. Not a natural blond anyway. I checked," she added with a wicked, lascivious grin, as she looked him up and down.

And despite the seriousness of the situation, Patrick blushed to the roots of his natural blond hair.

"All mine." She morphed into her vampire face, bared her fangs and leaned forward and Patrick closed his eyes, waiting for the pain and decided to die. Whatever happened, he promised himself, he would not let her turn him into a monster.

"What's this? A dinner party, and you didn't invite me? I'm hurt, Dru." Buffy stood casually in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Patrick had never been so pleased to see anyone.

"You!" Drusilla dropped Patrick and turned to face the Slayer. "I hate you! You took my lovely Spike and castrated him, made him less than he should have been."

"So you do remember me. Huh. Well, now I'm really insulted," Buffy grinned. Drusilla snarled and leapt at the Slayer, who parried her blows with ease before landing a kick that sent the vampire across the room, slamming her into the wall. "Oh come on, Dru! I thought this was going to be much harder."

Drusilla was up instantly, but not before Buffy had vaulted over Patrick's bed and stood in front of her. She landed four quick punches to the vampire's already wounded stomach and Drusilla let out a howl of pain that made her sound almost human. Buffy hauled her to her feet with one hand and produced a stake in the other.

"Maybe I should feel sorry for you," she told the vampire coldly. "I know what made you the way you are. But now, you're as bad as anything I've ever seen and I'm not sorry to do this." She leaned forward slightly and plunged the stake into Drusilla's heart, watching emotionlessly as the vampire's expression froze, leaving them with one last look at her horrified face, before she exploded into dust.

Buffy turned around and smiled at Patrick. "Do you have any of that green jello left? That one was always my favourite."


	12. Epilogue

They met at Jane's house in Malibu, out on the veranda overlooking the ocean. Lisbon had wondered at the choice of location, but Jane insisted. Xander was leaning heavily on a cane, but walking much better. The scratches on his face were healing well and would disappear entirely in time. She herself had been lucky. Her broken nose had been easily set and would heal without leaving a noticeable bump, or being crooked.

Jane was looking far better, the bandages hidden under a loose shirt. He still looked tired and went pale if anyone mentioned Drusilla, so Lisbon was content to leave the subject for now. That could wait until he came back to work. She still didn't know exactly what had happened that night in his hospital room. Buffy had only said that Drusilla had come back and been dusted and Jane had looked so shaken at the topic that Lisbon hadn't had the heart to press for more details.

The afternoon was turning into a bit of picnic, she thought lazily eating a strawberry as she watched Jane produce a strawberry out of Willow's ear, to the obvious delight of the witch. Lisbon shook her head fondly. If he was back to doing silly magic tricks, he was going to be fine.

She looked around as she heard a van pull up outside the house. A quick glance around showed that everyone who was expected was already in place, and she frowned. Who was arriving?

Jane caught her frown as he said, with the widest, brightest smile she had ever seen, "Decorators. They're here to repaint the place. I thought it was time for a new look." Buffy and her friends clearly didn't get the significance of that remark, but Lisbon exchanged startled looks with the rest of her team. He was finally painting over the smiley face?

"I'm pleased for you," Cho said sincerely.

Jane shrugged. "Red John's dead and gone now. It's over."

"But you are coming back, aren't you?" Van Pelt sat forward, suddenly concerned. "I mean, I know that the Red John case is closed, but you are coming back to the CBI, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure." Jane looked away for a moment, and then smiled again. "But I have made one decision. Buffy, you're always in need of more accommodation for all those baby Slayers, right?"

"Oh yeah," she said with a sigh. "We're always running out of space."

"Then it's yours," he said, nodding towards the house. "Once I've had it redecorated, anyway."

Buffy stared at him, dumbfounded, before flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Oh my God! Thank you! This is fantastic, brilliant, amazing!" She kissed Jane's cheek. "You're unbelievable!"

"By my count, every time we've met up, either you or Faith or Xander or Willow has saved my life. It's the least I can do." He shot a sad smile at the house. "It doesn't matter that Red John is dead. I still see… Well, you all know what I see when I walk in there. But that shouldn't stop other people enjoying the place."

Buffy hugged him again and then turned to face Xander and Willow with a grin. "I totally call dibs on this place."

"What? No way!"

"No fair!"

"Uh huh fair," she countered. "But if you're very good, I might let you come and visit. In fact, I've just had a brilliant idea. As soon as I get the keys, I'm hosting the First Annual Slayer-tastic Beach Party. And you're all invited."

"But what will you do if you don't come back to the CBI?" Van Pelt wondered.

When Jane didn't speak, Xander said quietly, "My offer still stands."

"What offer?"

"Oh, Xander asked Patrick if he wanted to be a Watcher," Willow explained. "You know, what with the Holy Water Pistols of Doom idea. I still say it's mainly because Xander's sick of being the one the girls all crush on, so he's just trying to bring in some eye-candy."

"Damn, you've seen straight through my evil plan."

"Could we change the subject please?" Jane pleaded.

"Not until I remind everyone that the first time we met I said that you were clearly of the yummy salty goodness," Buffy said, noticeably enjoying teasing Jane.

"I've saved your life way more than three times. You've never offered me a house," Lisbon pointed out, wondering why she was saving him by changing the subject.

"You can have my car," he offered with a sly grin.

"That old thing? I'll pass."  


* * *

  
Patrick took Buffy aside for a quiet word later on that afternoon. They walked down onto the beach, below the veranda where Xander was telling increasingly bad jokes and seemed to be in a competition with Rigsby as to who could make the worst puns. Xander was winning, Patrick considered.

"They're good friends. You should hang on to them, whatever you decide to do," she told him. "Remember, when it came down to it, they all ran into a nest of vampires. No superpowers, no spells, but they ran in anyway. You don't meet people like that very often," she said, looking up at Xander's silhouette with an affectionate smile.

"No you don't," he agreed. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be a Watcher. Drusilla scared me half to death."

"So? She scared me too. Being scared doesn't matter, it's how you react that's important."

"Still, I think the CBI needs me more."

"Probably."

"And you're not as easy to tease as Lisbon is."

"Nope."

"But if you ever need anything, just call me." He smiled down at her. "I owe you all a lot."

"Don't sweat it," she shrugged. Then she brightened up. "I've just had a brilliant idea. You can come and teach the girls how to do that Sherlock House thing you've got going on, you know, body language and everything."

"Sherlock Holmes," he corrected her automatically. "And it might be a good idea." They made their way back to the others and Patrick sat down next to Lisbon. "I've been thinking," he began. "You will all be hopelessly lost without me, so I can't really abandon you, can I?"

"You're staying?" And any doubts he might have had were swept away by the smile that lit up her face at his news.

Patrick put his arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the seat. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I have a good feeling about this, Lisbon, I really do."

* * *

A/N: So there we are, all finished and with the added benefit of a few bad guys dealt with too. Please let me know what you think of my little series, as I really do appreciate all your comments and support.


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